Unable to speak
by Whovian123
Summary: They both continued on as if everything could stay the same. They should have seen it coming, it was inevitable.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, so the doctor and clara are not really getting along, i wonder what will happen.**

**-whovian123 **

**Disclaimer. I do not own Doctor who all rights belong to the proper owners. **

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There had been an unspoken agreement between the Doctor and his companion ever since his regeneration. They would skirt around the console of the T.A.R.D.I.S. never stopping to talk, never acknowledging the rift that had been forced between them after the Doctors latest regeneration. The couple had taken to short conversations, maybe a minute long, and that was only to confirm dates of important events that couldn't under any circumstances be missed. When they passed each other in the T.A.R.D.I.S. corridors nothing more than a curt nod was exchanged. They were like strangers, two people pushed together by circumstance. It's not that they didn't like each other, quite the opposite actually. They adored each other, both of them were just too proud to admit it.

She loved him, of course she did, she had loved the face he wore when they met and she would love every face that came after. He loved her to; though his earlier regeneration had been far too scared to try to understand his feelings for her and the current version of him was far too stubborn and childish to process his emotions properly. So they danced in an intricate tango of sideways glances and clumsy side steps. She would catch him staring at her with his new hawk like eyes, and he would catch her twiddling her thumbs as if she were thinking over things to say to him. They never actually had the conversations they needed to have though. Not until that one Saturday Afternoon.

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One Saturday afternoon they found themselves stuck in one of the T.A.R.D.I. many kitchens. Their frantic tugging at the door was only met with flashing lights and a hum from the T.A.R.D.I.S. that could only be described as laughter. After begging and pleading with the temperamental machine they eventually gave up and came to rest, side by side, on the floor, leaning against the unyielding door. They were both utterly exhausted seeing as it was approaching midnight. She let out a yawn and he tensed up next to her. They settled into an uncomfortable silence punctuated only by the regular hum of the T.A.R.D.I.S.

It was a stale mate, neither person willing to bend and be the first to start chipping away at the wall that had grown between them. He even went as far as too cross his arms and pout like a kindergartener. She decided that she needed to be the mature one of the pair and went about making some tea to sooth her frazzled nerves and pass the time. While waiting for the kettle to boil she studied him, his stature was slouched and his face made it look as if he would rather be anywhere else in all of space and time. She was eventually brought back to reality as the kettle started whistling. Pulling two mugs out of the cabinet it occurred to her that he might not like his tea the same way this time around, she wished she knew these things. She wished they could have picked up where they left off.

It wasn't that he was too old-looking, it was that his regeneration had been a startling reminder of just how different they were and how impossible everything between them was. When he had looked like a man not much more than four years older than her it was easy to forget that he had lived for thousands of years, and that he came from a different world far beyond any of the stars she knew. Now with his new eyes that held a magnetic kind of insanity and his face which seemed stuck in an angry scowl it was easy to imagine him being very alien and very dangerous.

Handing him one mug of tea and keeping the other nestled smugly in her hands she slid down the door and came to rest next to him, the heat from the mug seeping into her tired fingers and reminding her not to nod off. He sipped at the tea and then scowled into it. "It Has milk?" He asked. she couldn't bring myself to say anything and only managed a nod. "Rubbish, you shouldn't ruin a fine pot of tea with milk."

It was as if that statement opened a flood gate in her head and words started tumbling out of her mouth without permission. "Rubbish, Rubbish? You know what's rubbish, rubbish is staying up late every night wondering what on earth I could have done to make you hate me so much." His eyes took on an angry dark look.

"Hate you! I don't hate you and if you go around accusing me of more outlandish things you will find that I become very hard to deal with." His threat fell on deaf ears as she launched into a scathing retort.

"Hard to deal with? It's hard to imagine you being more childish and ridiculous than you are now." He refused to respond and got up and stomped over to the far side of the kitchen. "Oh run away. That's what you do best isn't it. You can't clean up your own messes. You just leave whoever you're with to deal with the collateral!" Her voice steadily rose, as did her body from off of the ground, to the point of which she was yelling the last words at him.

He stopped and stood as still as a marble stature. The only feature that betrayed him was his shaking hand which still held the 'rubbish' tea. The air in the kitchen took on a cool quality as if even the T.A.R.D.I.S. was scared of what was going to happen. Silence was hanging in the air, forcing itself into all the corners of the room, invading and penetrating. He still hadn't said a thing; it was as if he was afraid of what he might say. He didn't want to hurt her, and he was deathly afraid that this new him might do.

Eventually he snapped. With incredible speed he spun around to face her and took several paces forward until he only millimeters from her face. "You are pathetic. droning on and on about things no one can control. It might be best if you leave. At least then you can get on with your directionless life. A teacher Clara, really? What happened to Angie and Artie? It's not as if you ever talked about teaching, you have no passion for it, no passion for anything in life. You will be doomed to a life of mundanity until the day you die."

His words stood stagnant in the air, looming over her, ringing with truth that she had tried to ignore and push to the back of her mind. His eyes gleamed with fury, and his chest heaved up and down, as if he had just run a mile. He regretted saying those things of course, he hadn't meant one word of it, and if she didn't leave him he intended to make sure that the rest of her days were anything but mundane.

He had extinguished her eyes, that passionate fire they held smoldering in their depths was gone, nothing but cold dead embers left in its place. She breaks her gaze away from his face and turns with her back to him. "Take me home." She whispers in a defeated voice, and then pushes through the now unstuck kitchen door.

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**This is a 2 shot and will have the second part up by Tuesday. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hullo, little late with this one, but i still met my self imposed deadline of atleast one update a week. Enjoy. **

**-Whovian123**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, all rights belong to the proper owners. **

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His eyes glazed over, his chest constricted, and his lungs burned along with his hearts. He was scared; he didn't want her to leave. If she left then she would take everything he was with her. She made him a better man. Without her he had nothing keeping him tethered to reality, without her he would float back to his cloud and spend the rest of time simply existing and not living. He had to make her stay. He didn't know how, he didn't know what he could ever say that would let her know how much he needed her, but he had to try. He bolted from the kitchen, slid along cold, empty, metal hallways and slammed up against unsuspecting corners. He couldn't bear to waste a moment, for every wasted moment was a moment she was closer to leaving.

After rounding the last corner between him and the console he was privy to her slouched and defeated frame resting against the console. She was crying that much was obvious from her shaking frame and the strangled sobs she fought to hide. She saw him out of the corner of her eye; his breath came in labored gasps and his eyes spoke of wild determination. She was scared, and so was he.

Neither one could bring themselves to speak. They only looked at each other, their eyes glued to one another's with a confusing and unexplainable magnetism. Her face was marred with tear tracks and his side would be bruised in the morning after crashing into so many corners. They were silent, they didn't need words. Had he been who he was before he would have hidden behind a monolithic speech, but now he was willing to stand before her and hide nothing. He would be exactly who he was, without any of the bells and whistles, just as she had always done.

They didn't realize at the time, but even the T.A.R.D.I.S. had forgone her mechanic hum. It was as if the entire universe had gone dark. Nothing alive or dead dared to interrupt the couple. In this one moment they existed completely outside of the universe, in a place where there was nothing; nothing but them. For all the magnificence they had seen, and all the worlds they had saved, they couldn't find the right words to say that would make everything better.

He wanted to rip out his heart. He wanted so desperately for her to not be sad, because seeing her so utterly defeated made him feel like his heart was being ripped out. He would do anything for her, he wished she knew. He wished there was a way in which he could let her know just how much he would be willing to sacrifice for her.

As if through a mental connection they both stepped forward at the same time, and fell into a hug. She clung to his navy coat trying so suppress the residual sobs and he buried his face in the soft, warm crook of her neck. They stayed pressed close together, listening to each other breathe, never wanting another moment to pass. They both knew that eventually they would have to talk; they would have to work out exactly where they stood with each other.

He spoke first. "Clara, I don't want you to leave."

"I don't want to leave." She continued to speak against his chest. "I'm sorry I was rude."

This startled him. It startled him so that he had to pull away from her. "You're sorry? How can you be sorry? I'm sorry. I was the one sulking, and avoiding confrontation. I'm the awful one." He was ashamed, his tone of voice gave her a brief look at the new him.

"How about we both get to be sorry?"

He nodded with a throaty chuckle. They could certainly both be sorry, and they could both work a little harder at understanding one another.

They were still standing apart from each other, but his breath was coming in considerably slower gasps, and the tears she was wiping away were not immediately replaced with fresh ones. They were two exceptionally stubborn people. No one could ever doubt that, but they could also be so stupid. They forced themselves through weeks of pain, and unspoken feelings of hurt only to have all the facades they had built collapse around them, leaving two people so utterly sad. They weren't sad anymore though, they didn't have to be.

She shot him shaky smile punctuated with a watery chuckle, which made his twin hearts flutter in an interesting, and delightful way. "I look a right mess don't I?" She asked, gesturing to her tear-stained face, and her hair; which had come undone from a ponytail and now hung in tangled waves.

"You look beautiful." His response was instantaneous and perhaps one of the most truthful things he had ever said. "You always look beautiful."

She blushed and he smiled. Then without either of them realizing it they were in each other's arms again, but this time it was a softer more relaxed embrace. Without music of any sort they started to dance, it was slow, tender, and consisted only of simple swaying, but it lasted all through the night. I was just the two of them in their own little pocket of space and time.


End file.
